Chapter 26 #2
…a caveat to syrabraxas, which makes them unique from other spells: The syrabraxa’s power is not granted to the host but instead to whomever kills the host. That power is more than any being can stand—mortal, hunter, demon, or otherwise—and drives them mad.
One historian describes an instance in which the wielder was a king at war with a neighboring country.
After having his most trusted turned warlock brew and cast the spell, the king killed the host, used the power to destroy his enemy’s armada, and then set his entire crew on fire before drowning himself in the high seas—
Fighting a shudder, I let my eyes skim as I flip through the pages.
“Wait,” Sophia says, hand shooting out. “There.”
And sure enough, like your great-grandma’s recipe for blueberry muffins scrawled into the margins of an old cookbook, there’s a handwritten list of ingredients to brew a syrabraxa. The only spell that could help me shed my scaly huntress skin and emerge a beautiful human-woman butterfly.
It’s all in Lymantrian, but it’s been translated into English in the footnotes.
Liquified blade of the third
Celestial bloom
Eye of the conjuring witch
Aeon’s blood
Sophia has gone as rigid as a corpse beside me. I wonder if we’re both staring at those last two words.
“Wait a second,” she says, going back to grab the newspaper clipping.
The one on rare goods found at Harker. “ ‘The asphodel, known by lymantrians as a holy celestial bloom, grew only on the lymantrian plane until its desecration. However, the Elders were able to save a few spare seeds of the highly sensitive flower. Now the asphodel grows in a light- and noise-restricted garden kept on Harker’s Old Campus,’ ” Sophia reads.
“ ‘The exact location of these haunting blooms is unknown by even the majority of Harker’s own staff.’ ” When she stares at me, real fear crests in her eyes. “You don’t think…”
I thought I’d give anything to know how to brew the spell that could free me. But now…“Someone at Harker is collecting the ingredients for a syrabraxa.”
Sophia’s swallow is audible. “Kitty?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why now?” Peter muses aloud. “If the ingredients have always been here on campus?”
I chew my lip. “I don’t know that, either.”
“Do you think eye of the conjuring witch means the literal eyeball of the witch who casts the spell?” Elliot asks.
“For Viv’s sake,” Sophia says, “I hope nothing on here is literal.”
We all stare at that last line on the page. Aeon’s blood.
“I thought there was a chance Kitty might have been an aeon,” I admit to the group.
“She has some of the qualities we’re known for—fluctuating moods, intensity…
” I look to Peter. “Did she ever mention coming into her abilities before turning twenty-one? Maybe being able to sense deviants before seeing what they are? Like a full-body vibration?” I can’t bring myself to ask about bloodlust. I couldn’t stomach the fear in my friends’ eyes.
But Peter just shakes his head, taking a seat at the desk. “I don’t think so, but…”
They hadn’t known each other all that long.
“We need to find that garden,” Sophia says. “See if the asphodels have been taken.”
Elliot doesn’t look as convinced. “And if they have? I’m all for breaking into secret rooms and shit, but I really think we need to go to a professor if someone is trying to brew a spell that can…” He cuts his eyes to Peter. “What did you say? Break the planes of existence?”
But I’m with Peter. “My father never wanted me to come here. He kept this school a secret from me all my life. Changed his name when he left. And then he was killed by the Brood, and his last words…” Rage funnels through my body, and I shake off the memory of that night.
“He knew the deviant who killed him. Maybe through someone he met here at this very school. And now it looks like a student is trying to harness the darkest magic known to man. I don’t think we can trust anyone at Harker with this just yet. ”
“Jesus,” Elliot mutters. “Fine. Okay. How do we find these flowers?”
All three of us look at Peter.
“I’ll be in the library,” he says, grabbing his bag. “I’ll text you guys when I find something.”
“We’ll keep thinking too,” I tell him.
It’s not like I’ll be able to do anything else. Aeon’s blood.
Sophia rests one hand on my shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen to you, okay?”
She really does have a skill for reading people. But I don’t want to dwell on the subject. “Don’t you guys have Field Training soon?”
“Shit.” She checks her phone and looks at Elliot. “Yeah.”
“Go.” I nod at them. “We’re not solving anything tonight.”
Elliot tosses me a supportive nod, and Sophia offers one last squeeze before they bound off, leaving me alone in the quiet of the archives. I put the grimoire and newspaper clippings away and toss my artifact gloves. Then I take a seat at the desk and face the wordless pages once more.
I know the mysteries around my dad’s death need to be put aside for now.
Kitty might have been kidnapped to serve as some kind of ingredient in a syrabraxa stew.
Between that and the wraiths and the zombie spell and the missing dagger…
I should be focusing on Harker and how to protect myself and my friends.
But what if my dad knew something sinister about this school? Something that scared him so much, he made sure I would never have a chance of attending? My fingers tap on the wooden ridges on the desk as I watch the sky outside fade from gray to a dark, bruised blue.
I’m here. In the archives. Probably for the last time, as I’ll need to toss Reid’s key card sooner rather than later. It’ll only take a second to look my dad’s name up. Then I’ll leave before I can be caught.